


Endless Road

by chubbyhawke



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aeducan/Zevran Friendship, Alistair's Death, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Inquisition Timeline, One-Shot, Past Character Death, Platonic Love, Post-Canon Timeline, Reunion, Sad Ending, The Calling, The False Calling, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbyhawke/pseuds/chubbyhawke
Summary: The Blight is over, Alistair is dead, and Dahlia Aeducan has been named Warden Commander and Hero of Fereldan. When she discovers that she is beginning to hear the Calling 10 years later, she decides that it's time to reunite with an old friend that she hasn't seen since she vanished after the ceremony that Queen Anora held in her honor for the slaying of the Archdemon.





	Endless Road

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of writing something like this after being inspired by the song "Endless Road" by Angel Olsen. I may do an illustration accompaniment to this eventually, but for now, here's what I've got c :
> 
> Please leave comments if you liked it!! Not beta'd, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

_**“** To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. **”**_

― J.K. Rowling

 

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she talked it over with herself, or blocked it out of her mind, nothing would erase the image of Alistair falling beside the corpse of the Archdemon, smiling lazily up at her as she scrambled to his side and giving her one final caress of the cheek with a bloody hand before falling limp in her arms. She hated him for that, he wasn't _supposed_ to die. She had it all planned out when their third Grey Warden accompaniment was struck down, she decided that she would take the blow herself so that Alistair could live and help the Wardens rebuild.

She had nothing left after being banished from her home, and after the death of her brother. Bhelen deserved it, without a second doubt, but Alistair was the only life she had. She would have only continued staying with the Wardens just to fight at that silly ex-templar's side. Without him- By the Stone, without him... 

Then, he had to pull the hero card. He died so that Dahlia would live, not so much as giving her the chance to argue or attack. He must've known that she wanted to take the blow, he must've known that she would try to stop him. He knew her too well, and that only made her want to yank him out of the grave and punch him square in the jaw even more than she already did. When the other members of the party had tried to comfort her, she only snapped at them and clutched the dead man even more tightly. For a moment, she had regretted refusing Morrigan's offer. Even if it meant that Alistair would have to bed another woman, even if it meant blood magic... surely if they had both seen this outcome, they wouldn't have acted with so much haste and fear. 

Morrigan, as much as she hated to admit it, was right. She _was_ a fool, and Morrigan had attempted to _help_ her, even after all of Dahlia's hard-headed, stubborn behavior that made the mage as tense and quick to snapping as a bow-string. 

At the funeral, Dahlia looked as though she would break the neck of anyone who stepped too close to Alistair's body as he lay in his open casket. She had written a sentiment, but it was not for them. It was for Alistair, both an expression of her complete rage and an expression of her love. She still had that rose he'd given her once upon a time, though now it was but a shriveled stem. She placed that in his cold hands, along with the sentiment she'd written. A kiss on his forehead, fighting back tears. She had never allowed herself to cry before, but in that moment, every wall she'd built around herself began to collapse, and she sobbed into Alistair's ceremonial burial armor. 

She was in no better state when Queen Anora forced her into a dress and invited her into the main hall of the royal palace in Denerim, holding a ceremony there in her honor. Dahlia could imagine Alistair chuckling at her in that moment, knowing how much the ex-princess had despised dresses. Anora gave a lengthy speech about how Dahlia was promoted Warden Commander, and officially titled as the Hero of Fereldan. As the Queen held out the medal, Dahlia took it, and threw it on the ground- causing everyone in the room to gasp.

"I am not the Hero of Fereldan," she had snarled, tearing at the sleeves of her dress to get more movement out of her arms. "Alistair was the Hero of Fereldan." With that, she stormed from the stage and out of the building, massive castle doors slamming shut behind her. She retrieved her horse from one of the stablehands, and followed the road out of Denerim. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she never once looked back. 

Her friends found her not long after, in Redcliffe, no less, hiding away in the tavern. They tried to distract her mind with small talk, reminding her that she had lead them this far and that much was still worthy of honor. Sten had even called her "Qunoran vahl", "One who serves as an example to others". He said that most of those usually aren't named until after their death, to prevent them from being too proud. Dahlia had only shaken her head, eyes never looking up from the countertop. 

"You're wrong. I'm not what they say. Alistair was the one who killed the arch demon. He's the one who deserved that ceremony," she said. "And now he's gone, and it's no fault but my own." 

That was the last time she'd seen them all together in person, even 10 years later. She still wrote them when she could, telling them of the minor exploits she had as she attempted to find purpose in her now empty life. She had begun searching for a cure for the Calling, after learning of the mage who somehow avoided it during her time in Weissahpt. Not that she wanted to avoid it herself, but so that other Grey Wardens after her might have that privileged. She would welcome the Calling, should it come to her, that way she wouldn't have to keep trying to find reasons to stay alive for the sake of others, for the sake of her friends.

It was true that she treasured their compassion for her, but none of them truly understood. Except, perhaps, Zevran, but he had been one of the hardest pushers for Dahlia to keep fighting this grief and complete her mission. Many times, he'd offered to meet her and help. She rejected every time, feeling guilty, but knowing that in the end it was the right thing. Besides, if the assassin saw how she looked now, he would scold her for her negligence without a doubt. 

However, after Leliana had begun to write her about Divine Justinia's 'Inquisition' and the 'Herald Of Andraste', she began to hear The Calling. It tainted her periphery, poisoning her every thought. She remembered that Alistair spoke of it, once, but that was a fleeting memory. Her years of searching for something that clearly couldn't be found were coming to an end, this was it. 

 _'I promised myself that I would see Alistair again,'_ she had thought. And after all these years, her friends had told her to settle down, to live her life in luxury as she should after her heroism and make a home back in Orzammar. But... Alistair was her home. He would always be her home. Now... now she supposed she could finally go back. 

When Zevran wrote her again later that month, with that never relenting offer of visit, she decided now would finally be a good time to say yes. They agreed on a local tavern in Montfort, which was the best half-way point between their locations that they could find. 

In the dead of night, in a small village lit only with lanterns and candle light, her dearest friend Zevran stood waiting, cross-armed outside the tavern, wearing that same, lurid smirk he'd worn since the first day they met, when Dahlia nearly killed him.

He approached her slowly as she hitched her horse, her dismount as graceless as it always was, being a dwarf, but the elf snatched her in his arms and squeezed as tightly as he could. Ten years ago, she would have punched him, bloodied his nose, but now... she melted into the Antivan's embrace. She did not cry, no, but pain swelled up in her heart and her throat just the same. 

"Oh, how dreadful you look, my Warden," the elf clicked his tongue as they parted from one another, shaking his head. "No, this absolutely will not do." 

"Can we just sit, and relax?" Dahlia sighed. "I'm not stressed about my physical state. I just want to see you." 

"Well, you see me, don't you?" he teased, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "All these years and you haven't changed a little. As stubborn and hard-headed as a boulder, Warden."

"I'm a creature of habit," she replied, allowing herself a tiny smile. "But, you say that as though you _have_ changed."

"Ah, you don't believe so?" he shook his head, stepping back to illuminate more of his face in the torchlight as he lowered his hood. He held up a hand, a single ring twinkling on the second to last finger. "Would you ever catch me wearing such a deadly thing ten years ago?"

She felt her jaw drop at the sight, he definitely had not mentioned this in the letters. "Is... this why you kept asking?" 

"It's not the only reason," he chuckled. "Would it have changed your mind?" 

"No," she admitted. "It... likely wouldn't have." 

"Precisely," he clasped a hand on her shoulder and grinned. "Now, let us go inside before this cold consumes us, hm?" 

Just like their younger days where they traveled the countryside of Fereldan, they got to sitting and talking over a bowl of warm stew while Zevran cradled a mug of ale in a free hand. She had refused to drink during her time in Orzammar as a commander, and the abstinence stuck with her. She was happy, though, that this stew tasted much, much better than Sten's stew. 

Zevran told her about how he'd met a charming bard in Orlais, who had also been a Warden at one point in his life. They fell in love almost instantly, and Zevran hated to admit it. He battled with himself, resigned to abandon the man completely for the sake of his sanity, but instead he returned. He returned, and asked that man to marry him. 

Dahlia could not have been more proud of her friend, from a Crow, to a Grey Warden ally, and now...  a husband, a married man. This... this was just the news that she needed to hear. Talking to Zevran again, hearing his voice as he told stories about the love of his life, she could forget The Calling, if only for a few hours. She could forget the open road waiting outside that tavern door, tugging at her sleeve.

If only she could have gone to see Oghren, Leliana, or even Sten. If Wynne were still alive, she would have loved to visit her as well. But no, Oghren was nowhere to be found, Leliana was wrapped up in the Inquisition, and Sten was back with in Par Vollen. Zevran was all that was left, bouncing all about Thedas and having adventures just like she was. Though, his were likely a lot more pleasant than her own. 

As they walked out of the tavern together and Dahlia unhitched her horse from the post, Zevran lingered behind her, cautiously putting a hand on her shoulder. "Must you go so soon, my friend?" he asked, attempting to mask the pain in his tone with his usual smugness, but she could sense it there, tangled with the longing and the regret. "What dire situation calls you at this hour? Come, stay, play a game of Diamondback or Wicked Grace. I'll even let you win, hows that sound?" 

She smiles fondly at her friend. Oh, how she was going to miss him. Wordlessly, she pulls the elven man into an embrace, allowing her face to settle in his torso. He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and running his fingers through her hair. He was the only person allowed to touch her like this other than Alistair. Sten was allowed to help her with her stance when they were sparring, but it was the only kind of physical contact they ever shared. Zevran was different. She trusted Zevran, and he understood her life in a way that most of their other party members did not. He would always be special. He would always be her very best friend. 

"I-... at least let me join you," Zevran stammered as they finally came apart, his resolve slowly breaking. "I can hold my own, I have a stallion who's readily carried me this far. It has been 10 years, my Warden, it would be devastating to lose you again." 

Dahlia shakes her head, releasing the bridle of her mare for a moment to return to facing her friend. "I'm afraid, this time, I must make this journey on my own," she said, taking one of Zevran's hands and giving it a gentle squeeze. "If I could take you with me, Zevran, I would." 

" _Zev,_ " he gently pleaded, voice cracking. "You're my _friend_ , Warden, call me Zev." 

"Zev," she corrected, the word sounding strange coming across her tongue. She was never one for nicknames. "I'm sorry. I truly am. But, this isn't the last time you'll see me. I know it, and you must know it." 

"When, my warden?" he huffed, furrowing his brow. "Where?" 

"Soon, if you don't keep your nose clean," she said, smiling again. "and not here." 

As the elf protests her cryptic response and begs for more answers, she turns, climbing onto the back of her horse and turning heel back toward the road. The wind began to whistle in her ears again, singing a sickly familiar song. She waves at the elf, and eventually, defeated, he waves back. She gallops off toward the moonlight, knowing that Zevran would likely follow her tracks in the morning. She didn't care if he did, because there was no way that she'd be able to stop him anyways. He'd figure out soon enough, he'll discover why it was that he could not accompany her on this final journey. 

 _'I'm coming back home, Alistair',_ she thought, turning on the road towards the caves along the Frostbacks that lead down into the Deep Roads. _'I'm coming home.'_

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of open-ended... so, you interpret it how you will! There are two ways to go here, either A. Dahlia Aeducan experienced the TRUE Calling, and died heroically, OR Dahlia Aeducan was hearing the false Calling created by Corypheus, and instead of reaching out to her friends about the issue (which definitely would have revealed to Dahlia that the Calling was false), she kept it in and handled the situation completely on her own, resulting in her pre-mature death. I'm fine with either ending! I suppose it depends on how sad you like your endings to be ; )


End file.
